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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS 



BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
Small crown 8vo., 2s. 

MAN AND THE DEITY 

TOGETHER WITH OTHER POEMS 

" A thoughtful poem containing many poetical ideas." 

Morning Post, 

" Reveals a cultivated mind." — Vanity Fair. 

" Reveals talent and elevation of thought . . . Ele- 
gant and harmonious." — Evening; News. 



London 

Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner & Co., Ltd. 

Paternoster House, Charing Cross Road, W.C. 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS 



A ROMANTIC POEM 



BY / 

LIEUT.-COLONEL FIFE-COOKSON 

AUTHOR OF " WITH THK ARMIES OF THE BALKANS," " TIGER SHOOTING IN 

THE DOON AND ULWAR," " THE EMPIRE OF MAN," 

"man AND THE DEITY," ETC. 



A beauteous landscape that no brush can paint. 

Bird's song which thrills beyond all human tone, 
Bright realms of whitest snow without a taint. 
The blue of heaven, pure nature's work alone : 
What mortal dares to vie ? " 

A Dream of Other Days. 



G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 

NEW YORK LONDON 

a? West Twenty-third St. 24 Bedford St., Strand 

i8c 



JAN S 1B92 Jl y 






Copyright, 1891 

BY 

J. C. FIFE-COOKSON 



Printed and Bound by 

Ube Tftnicfterbocfter press, mew lorft 
G. P. Putnam's Sons 



PREFACE. 



I BEG to offer to the public the following poem. 
I can also claim to be the author of the metrical 
arrangement of the stanza in which it is written, 
for although other forms have been employed which 
resemble it, yet mine differs essentially from them. 

J. C. FiFE-COOKSON. 

Lee Hall, Wark, 

North Tyne. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

CANTO I, 
First Love i 



CANTO II. 
The Battle 20 

CANTO III. 
The Vision 49 

CANTO IV. 
The Rivals 65 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 



CANTO I. 
FIRST LOVE. 

I. 

V/'OUNG Arthur Northwood paused and gazed askance 
* Through the bay window, as the summer day- 
Hung in the sultry noon. The green leaves dance 
When through the woods and parks the breezes play 
Around the stately Hall ; 

There in mid-distance glides the winding stream, 
Its sun-lit pools like glittering mirrors beam ; 
While far as eye can reach upon the hill 
A standard's folds, which lazy zephyrs fill. 
O'er Trannon Castle fall. 

II. 

A handsome youth was he, whose ruddy glow 
Told of the country sport and hardy game ; 



A DREAM OF OTHER DA YS. 

Moustache and whiskers scarce begun to grow, 

Light wavy hair, fair skin, and e'er the same 

Truth couched in eyes of blue ; 

His shapely figure over middle height, 

Of needs was boyish yet and somewhat slight ; 

Neat his attire, while still it studied ease. 

Showed dainty care, the graceful wish to please 

The world in manner due. 



III. 

"O sire ! to age and wisdom I repair," 

So spake he, turning ; " that your words may guide 

And save me on the brink of dull despair ; 

Aid me, I pray, to win a beauteous bride 

If she is to be won ; 

Where is the sacrifice I could command 

Worthy of lovely Lady Ella's hand ? 

But should I fail, take back the vital spark 

And end my life so aimless, cold, and dark ; 

My days without a sun ! " 



IV. 



Thus spoke the ardent youth, with blushes deep. 
To hear at first his secret soul avowed : 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

Though oft he murmured when awake, asleep, 

And breathed the fondest vows, yet ne'er aloud 

A confidant had told ; 

Presumptuous seemed it, rash, that he should dare 

To clann in open speech the lady fair : 

A child who thinks a midnight star to clasp. 

May in a lake its shining image grasp 

But find it void and cold. 



V. 

" Stay, Arthur ! " cried his father, aged and worn, 
'' Nor stake upon th' uncertain prize your fate ; 
Nerved for defeat, be yet not overborne. 
With tempered ardour and discretion wait. 
Nor sigh for ruined life ; 
Full many a general worsted in the field 
Again courts fickle fortune, scorns to yield. 
Collects his forces with undaunted skill, 
And shows, if not the power, at least the will 
To conquer in the strife. 



VI. 

" But if your passion prove a hopeless love, 
Still courage, duty, honour, bid you live : 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

Nepenthe sent with healing from above, 
Borne by winged time, will surely succour give, 
And leave you strong and sound ; 
As he who, tossed by storms, with sickness fails. 
Sees the dread rock that nigh his ship empales : 
The peaceful harbour safely gained at last. 
Smiles o'er the scenes of ghastly dangers past 
And treads on soUd ground. 



VII. 

" Prepare yourself for long delay's chagrin. 

You woo a lady fair, of noble name, 

Yet constancy some happy day may win 

If she should favour, long remain the same 

Towards your courteous suit ; 

Your youth and hers a plea, e'en should she smile. 

To bid you wait her settled wish awhile : 

An Ensign in the service of the Queen, 

You don but now the honoured Rifles' green, 

And join next month in Bute. 

VIII. 

" Yet boldly challenge fate whate'er betide : 
At Trannon, when Lord Corbury returns, 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

Avow the flame you can no longer hide, 

Which for his beauteous daughter brightly burns, 

And beg for his consent." 

" Father, they come, perchance they overhear : 

A telegram ! Strange news in terms most clear ! 

* Pray join at once at Portsmouth, as we sail 

To-morrow night for India without fail, 

On active service bent.' 



IX. 

'^ Such sudden orders great events involve. 

Where rages red revolt in widening blaze, 

Far Hindostan convulsed, her fate to solve, 

By frantic Sepoys in their murderous craze. 

Who break at last our yoke ; 

Frenzied with slaughter grown, they scorn to spare. 

Nor youth, nor sex protects, nor silvered hair : 

' Cast the Feringhee in the sea ! ' they cry, 

But while fair Ind again to free they vie 

The land in blood they soak ! 



" Then I must haste this very night from here, 
Nor risk the fate of being left behind : 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

War's honours call where sounds the British cheer, 

Love's gentle fetters can no longer bind 

When duty points the way ; 

'T is mine, to every friend I beg you tell, 

The wish without the power to say ' Farewell.' " 

" I will, my boy. God bless you. May each blow 

Ne'er fail to lay your fiercest foeman low. 

And keep you safe, I pray ! " 

XI. 

Hurried the preparations were of need. 

His outfit ready then, in part or whole : 

Light was the high-wheeled cart, and fast the steed, 

Dressed in his service cloak, cap, green " patrol," 

A sword slung tight around ; 

And a small telescope through which the eye 

The quartette moons of giant Jove could spy, 

With a revolver ne'er in need to fail : 

He journeyed southward by the evening mail 

To join his comrades bound. 



XII. 

Fast steamed the train along the sounding lines. 
With shrieking whistles into tunnels plunged, 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. J 

Mounted the gradients, raced down the inclines : 
Or leaning inwards round the curves it lunged 
Obedient to the will ; 

And as the groom his steed with corn must nerve, 
So with good coal the ready stokers serve, 
The driver's reins the well-oiled crank and screw : 
Loud throbs the engine's heart responsive, true. 
And works o'er vale and hill. 

XIII. 

The panorama flies on either side, 

So swift the view is scarcely seen ere gone ; 

They race the birds and e'en the breezes wild. 

Through sunshine, darkness, fog, and moonlight wan 

To thread the well-worn ways ; 

The busy merchant, lover to his fair, 

Or rising lawyer to forensic chair, 

The hurrying doctor with his well-earned fee. 

And lettered bishop to his saintly see : 

The iron horse conveys. 



XIV. 

Next morning Northwood reached the busy port, 
Where stern Bellona dwelt on land and sea ; 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS, 

Each circling crest around displayed a fort, 

And anchored war-ship shared with argosy 

The shelter of the bay ; 

But little leisure was there left to note 

The lines by land or naval power afloat, 

The troops commenced to mount the vessel's side 

An ocean city in her massive pride 

The Indian transport lay. 



XV. 

To fend the piercing heat of tropic clime, 

Painted all gray like phantom ship of story ; 

There the blue-peter signals sailing time, 

Here the white-ensign tells of naval glory ; 

While panting to be free 

There chafing hisses forth a steamy cloud, 

And busy cranes hoist stores with groaning loud. 

Upon the wharf and on the decks the throng 

All eager hurrying raise a tumult long : 

At last she seeks the sea. 



XVI. 

Starting with pleasing prospect, weather bright 
In their swift-moving home, a little world, 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

They pass ere twilight round the Isle of Wight, 
To the fair wind their canvas white unfurled, 
Seated astride the yards. 
The mariners with knife and cords to reeve 
And bend a sail, with skill the task achieve. 
As the last sailor ties the final rings. 
Blithely a gay seafaring song he sings 
And lingering gloom discards. 



SAILOR S SONG. 
I. 

Nor grieves my heart 

From home to part. 
Light come and lighter go 

No need to sigh 

With tearful eye 
To testify my woe. 



For many a day 
I 've seen the spray 
Cresting the waves before 



10 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

And heard the shocks 
Of surf on rocks 
Sound like the cannon's roar. 

3. 

While oft the gale's 
Complaining wail 

Has risen amidst the shrouds ; 
As we lay-to 
With sail and screw 

Beneath the racing clouds. 



Plunged in the dip 

The gallant ship, 
When seas ran topmast high ; 

She struck the wave, 

A shudder gave 
With steam a groan and sigh. 

5. 

But breezes rough 

To timbers tough, 

What injury do they ? 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS, II 

I ne'er repine 
Till weather fine 
Succeeds the stormy fray. 



While absence brief 

Ne'er fosters grief 
And blither I return ; 

A charm to friends 

Short parting lends, 
Makes love the brighter burn. 



XVII. 



When icicles depend from shroud and mast 

In the bleak winter, then the bitter breeze 

Chills him with thickest cloak who braves the blast. 

The traveller forced to sail in times like these 

Is driven from the deck ; 

No pity lingers in the leaden sky. 

He seeks for signs of change with restless eye, 

Longs for the sheltered vales and cheerful towns 

That lie behind the line of distant downs, 

A disappearing speck. 



12 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS, 

XVIII. 

But when the brilliant summer sun and drought 

Increase each day the heat upon the land : 

Then will the traveller joyfully set out 

On the calm sea and quit the dried-up strand, 

To breathe the cooling breeze ; 

O'er Ocean, winds their purity regain 

Lost in the crowded city and the plain ; 

By the rich stores of vital power, their wealth. 

Bring back the jaded, weak, and sick to health. 

And granting life, they please. 



XIX. 



So Arthur Northwood on the transport stood. 
Which steaming, sailing, cleaved the rippling wave. 
Fatigued, desponding, trod the polished wood : 
What from the pangs of hopeless love can save ? 
Suspense to last for years ! 

Through falling darkness steered the vessel proud. 
O'er England's coast night drew her sable shroud ; 
Still flashed " Farewell " a light-house from afar, 
Like a gigantic variable star 
Which with the moon appears. 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 1 3 

XX. 

Forth from the open sky-lights music borne, 
Tells of the cultured female voice and hand ; 
With themes of poets, love perchance forlorn, 
Or by its triumph lighting bright the land 
In heaven's celestial flame ; 
The knightly deed to win a lady fair, 
The roving viking and the bold corsair. 
With simple tale of touching melody, 
A ballad of the field, the camp, the sea : 
At length thus sung the dame : 



A BALLAD OF THE SEA. 
I. 

He walks upon the barren shore 

Despair is in his eye ; 
For oft in vain he gazed before 

Upon that wave and sky. 



" My few provisions nearly used. 
Saved from the schooner's wreck 

No rescuing vessel near us cruised 
My signals to detect. 



14 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 



" And she who promised me to wed 

Ere last I tempted fate : 
Must know the wreck and think me dead, 

Will choose another mate." 



But as he spoke, amid the light 
Where sinks the sun from view, 

There shone a tiny speck of white 
Upon the ocean blue. 

5. 

" A sail ! A sail ! Comes here the skiff. 

Or bears my hope afar ? 
Blaze now the bonfire on the cliff 

And aid my lucky star ! " 



Bright flames the wood and parched-up grass. 
High towers the column of smoke : 

They see ! She turns, disdains to pass, 
'T is fortune's happy stroke ! 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 1 5 



Heaved to, she anchors near the isle 
And quickly lowers a boat ; 

Then cleave the waves the oars awhile, 
Till to the beach they float. 

8. 

A smart young sailor springs ashore 

And hurries to his side : 
But well he knows that face of yore, 

'T is she, his promised bride ! 



*' Your ship was wrecked, they thought all lost 

I joined a fisher's crew : 
To bribe him search the lonely coast, 

And all for love of you ! 



10. 

" 'T was you who led me from the land 

To wander on the sea ; 
'T is I who give the soft command 

To bide at home with me ! " 



1 6 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

XXI. 

The cheerful lights, the music, singing, games, 
Attract the mirthful passengers below, 
The gallant officers and charming dames, 
Till only Northwood in the gloom of woe 
Stays torn by doubtful thought ; 
His memory travels through the happy past, 
Since first in childhood's days together cast : 
She shared his triumphs when from school a boy 
Until the budding rose grew lovely, coy. 
More solitude she sought. 



XXII. 

Then last of all amazed, he saw above. 

That star of beauty which his mind enthralled, 

So Hesperus sheds forth the light of love : 

Too pure for Earth, as if to Heaven 't were called, 

Shines where we ne'er aspire ; 

Her joyous smile and gentle pensive face, 

Kind truthful eyes, fine-chiselled features, grace, 

Of well-turned form and carriage lithe, erect : 

Her mind and person with each charm were decked 

His ardent soul to fire. 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 1 7 

XXIIT. 

From hurried, rapid travelling, far and long, 
Full tired was Northwood and to sleep was fain ; 
The drowsy sea-air soothed as sound of song, 
Lulled gentle movements through the placid main ; 
A folded sail lay nigh. 

On the rough couch he sank, in peace reposed. 
With pleasant languor soon his eyes he closed : 
But still her face and form in mind he kept. 
Sighed, breathed again his lover's name and slept 
Beneath the summer sky. 



XXIV. 

O dreamless sleep, whoe'er has sung thy praise. 

In earnest gratitude's exalted ode. 

Ne'er did thee justice in his loudest lays. 

For all the blessings by thy power bestowed 

On body, nerve, and brain ! 

But midnight fancies, if we dream, are apt 

To twist awry the schemes in which engraft 

Our waking pleasures, business, hopes, and fears, 

E'en disinter the ghosts of former years, 

Till sleep is full of pain. 



1 8 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

XXV. 

Not thus with Northwood, and ere long he dreamed 

Leaving his body on the lowly bed, 

His love-attracted mind released it seemed, 

Swift as winged fire to Trannon Castle sped, 

A vivid scene and fair ; 

There shine the evening sunbeams as of old. 

The ivied towers they gild with light of gold : 

His lady rests beneath the shady limes, 

As often, he recalls, in bygone times. 

But sorrowful her air. 



XXVI. 

With ever-kindly smile and cheerful voice, 

Her thoughtful mother comes to bid her say : — 

*' Why, Ella, go not forth this evening choice. 

Nor with your brother ride abroad to-day ?" 

A tear her daughter hides ; 

And answers coyly : " I am sad indeed 

To Arthur Northwood ne'er to wish God-speed : 

A man seeks fortune, through the world may roam, 

But helpless women can but sigh at home 

And wait what fate betides." 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS, I9 

XXVII. 

" I pray you write." — But scarce the words are said 

When to his mind becomes the vision dim : 

Ceases the voice, sea-breezes sigh instead, 

Clouds o'er the scene, the forms which fade from him, 

He seeks to overtake ; 

Half-sleeping thinks he dreamed, yet would resume 

Enchanted threads of thought now lost in gloom, 

Then gazes on the peaceful sky and sea 

Scarce conscious yet, nor knows where he may be : 

At last he is awake. 



XXVIII. 

He rises, clears his eyes, with lingering doubts 

Whether indeed that be the dream or this, 

So real it seemed, but now the seamen's shouts 

Dispel the fairy charm : the vision of bliss 

Revealed his lady's mind ! 

Welcome, the answer to his dismal fear, 

A friend for aye, but ne'er a lover dear ! 

Thus grateful, calm, and shadowy sleep, though short, 

Revived his confidence and succour brought : 

No more in pain he pined. 



20 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

XXIX. 

Of late he would, alone, his fate deplore, 

A lover's hopes are lightly raised, o'erthrown, 

Now grievous solitude he sought no more : 

All wondered what good wind had fortune blown 

To cause such revelrie ! 

And gayer yet, in mood more buoyant still, 

When near Gibraltar's Herculean hill : 

From Trannon echoed prayers for his success 

A tale of sadness friends could ne'er suppress 

Since he sailed o'er the sea. 



CANTO II. 

THE BATTLE. 



r^ OOD folk abound who hold our climate cheap, 

^— * Composed of fogs that breed the gruff catarrh : 

By day the cheering sun may rarely peep 

Through clouds, or shine by night the moon and star ; 

But when abroad they roam. 

Whether to Lapland's frozen coast they hie, 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 21 

Or tempt the furnace-heat of tropic sky, 
Or traverse nearer lands : soon lose their zest, 
Declare at length our temperate climate best 
And wish they were at home. 



II. 



So would the traveller, with no cause to stay, 

Have pined amid the torrid summer glare, 

Throughout the blazing, stifling Indian day : 

When lengthy clouds of dust that hung in air 

Signalled the march of troops ; 

While now the British reach the ridge of ground 

Before the town, and bivouac around : 

The Sepoy scouts within their lines withdraw, 

That shield the capital of Brahmapore, 

At which the eagle stoops. 



III. 

Long was the march, as if through England made, 

And not where cloudless sunshine deals black death 

Footsore and weary, without water, shade. 

Dense dust, and scorching air at every breath : 

The soldiers struggled bravely on : 

Buoyed by the ardent hope their foe to reach 



22 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

On open plains or in the fire-swept breach, 
Destroy red-handed those whose deeds appal : 
To vindicate the British power, 't was all 
For Albion, Erin, Caledon ! 



IV. 

The rough campaign, the fight, and march, their mark 

On uniform, o'er figure, face, had left 

Proof of their wearing force and tenure dark ; 

Want, suffering, hardship, had the gloss bereft 

With many a rent and stain ; 

The gay contrasting colours still might flaunt 

On the thin limbs and 'neath the visage gaunt : 

With gaudy lace and epaulettes of gold. 

Of glittering peace parades and pomp that told. 

They ne'er shall grace again. 



V. 



A tyrant conqueror of the world may scourge, 

As Genghis slew his myriads for a freak : 

But greater powers at length the ill must purge, 

A roaring lion bleats, the strong are weak 

And mighty men sink down : 

So now at last descends the fiery sun, 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 23 

Meets the tree-dotted plain, its course is run : 
Dull like the old or worn and dyed with red, 
Omen of deeds ere Sol next seeks his bed 
Far, far beyond the town. 



VI. 

The British chief stands silent and erect 

Before his lines, and close the landscape scans, 

Nor slightest feature does his eye neglect : 

So gladiators note th' uneven sands 

Within the fated lists ; 

The watchful staff mark Northwood's quick approach 

And seized by pickets at the first encroach, 

A Hindoo Sepoy who his fate must choose, 

With life and safety bribed to tell his news, 

'T is death if he resists. 



VII. 

Handcuffed, he marched erect, on either hand 

Sentries whose rifles had their bayonets " fixed 

A corporal, directing by command, 

Guided the guard, with prisoner betwixt, 

The anxious chief before ; 

Tall was the captive, spare, of darkest hue 



24 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS, 

(Fierce Indian suns his race's blood imbrue), 
No longer wearing cloth of British red 
But a mixed native garb of white instead 
That spoke the trade of war. 

VIII. 

So quoth the native : " Lord, be pleased to hear ! 

Provider of the poor, to whom your slave 

Looks up as humblest son in filial fear 

To mightiest monarch of the land and wave ! 

The tale I thus recite ; 

My regiment was disbanded, I turned home 

To tend the cattle and to till the loam. 

By which bread-food and salt might be procured. 

And hoped 'gainst hope when peace should be assured 

Here tranquil to abide. 



IX. 



" But the wild insurrection spread and grew, 
Loomed like the giant offspring of a dream, 
And soon our ancient state to arms it drew : 
I was compelled to leave the herd and team 
And join the ranks of war ; 
Then quickly gathered here the Sepoy might 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 2$ 

With cannon, rifle, lance, and sabre bright : 
Soon learnt the toiling peasant to his cost, 
Through homesteads plundered and by cattle lost, 
That order ruled no more. 



" The ancient Hindoo race has little love 

For Moslem rulers who usurped our land : 

Full soon their iron hand, without the glove, 

Would crush our souls if victory they command 

And end the British raj ; 

With five times greater force the Sepoys wait 

Joined to the Rajah's troops : inspired by hate 

And fiery bhangs concoction sent from Hell ! 

They vaunt the deeds of Cawnpore's crimsoned well. 

And long their foe to charge ! 



XI. 



" Those towering walls embraced the town of old, 

Built to protect whoe'er the foe might be : 

A Moghul suzerain in his greed of gold, 

Fierce rival, Asian horde, and Pindaree, 

A barrier grim have found ; 

But since your powerful rule prevented war, 



26 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

What need remained of shield that saved of yore ? 
So on this side the ancient rampart fell, 
The prosperous city burst its parent shell, 
Where now the trenches bound. 



XII. 

" One port there is in all th' embattled length, 
Held by a mounted picket day and night : 
The side so distant and so great its strength, 
All deem it safe and wait the coming fight 
Where lines the opening close ; 
Why then should sowars sacrifice their ease ? 
They rest within a shady tope of trees. 
Which grows before the city's open gate : 
Shun the hot guard-room, leave the rest to fate, 
Smoke, drink, play cards, repose ! " 



XIII. 

Scarce had he ceased and was again withdrawn, 

When Northwood begged that he the gate might seize 

(Eager for bold emprise) at earliest dawn, 

When wafted on the gentle morning breeze 

The war should sound afar ; 

In native garb, alone, armed with his knife, 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 2^ 

He 'd nail the gate, to close not in the strife, 
Rejoin his party in an ambush near, 
Then win the guard-room, though the cost be dear^ 
The foe's retreat to bar ! 



XIV. 



Freely the wished permission was obtained : 

Well might it prove to be a forlorn hope 

If by mischance the foe in force remained 

To raise alarm, with first assault to cope ; 

Soon severed the retreat 

Of the small British, stern, devoted band, 

Once gained, the guard-room, more secure they stand 

Well might success the desperate risk reward 

And fame for many an age the deed record, 

Of arms a glorious feat ! 



XV. 



Meanwhile there widely spreads the waxing throng 

Of those that once the dreaded Corsican 

Termed arbiters of fate, battalions strong : 

Still grows the bivouac from whence began 

At first the foremost line ; 

And far away as distant view can strain 



28 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS, 

The winding columns of dust upon the plain, 
Or instant sunlight flash on burnished steel, 
More seeming endless coming columns reveal, 
Which for the fray combine. 

XVI. 

Upon the lengthy ridge's counterslope 

The soldiers bivouacked, well hid from view 

Of the artillery in range's scope : 

A distant cannonade they else might rue 

While still on resting bent ; 

In line of columns arrived, 't was so it happed. 

They lay upon the ground in great-coats wrapped, 

Or shunned the heavy dew 'midst leafy screen, 

Upheld by posts with woven boughs between, 

Like lean-to, hut, or tent. 

XVII. 

Between each row of resting troops were piled 
A line of stands of lethal arms composed 
Of rifles, which upon their butts reclined, 
Towards a common centre leaning closed 
With the fixed bayonets sheathed ; 
In mutual support, and on them slung 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 2g 

Accoutrements and all the side-arms hung, 
While the cased colours formed a central stand : 
Two sentries stood to guard each column at hand, 
And rouse at instant need. 



XVIII. 

The officers repose upon the flank, 

Each trooper sleeps before his fastened steed, 

His pillow, sword-hilt, stone, wood-log or bank : 

Scooped hollow fits his form, the only need 

To save from ache and pain ; 

Straw, leaves, or grass, are held as luxuries prime, 

'T is soon prepared, the bed at camping-time : 

Between the cannon lengthy ropes are fixed 

And the strong horses are attached betwixt, 

Which drag the gun or wain. 



XIX. 



The sleeping warrior dreams of distant home. 

Once more he views the haunts and friends of youth. 

He sees the village spire, cathedral dome ; 

Or midnight fancy nearer skirts the truth 

And lingers round the war ; 

Already in the morrow's fight engaged. 



30 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

He joined the melee where it fiercest raged : 
Or peace declared, promoted, rich to boot 
With Indian batta and his share of loot, 
His last campaign is o'er. 



XX. 



But ere the sturdy troops to rest retired, 

Blazed the parched grass and crackling wood to cook 

Their hard-earned meal, so small yet much desired : 

And the blue smoke in curling spiral took 

To upper air its way : 

Long after the short tropic twilight by. 

Beamed the reflected fires on mist and sky : 

Around them soldiers sung, smoked, jested, told 

Strange recollections of their wars of old, 

Amidst the charger's neigh. 

XXI. 

Then if you ask, O reader, what the songs 

Sung by the soldiers at the close of day ? 

No dirge, the lofty ode to Court belongs, 

Nor high-flown words but simple chose the lay, 

Tender, pathetic, true ; 

As " Bonnie Annie Laurie," loved of all, 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 3 1 

Or lively with refrain, of field and hall : 
Did I example some more complex theme 
'T would be the fable song that such I deem 
Of ^sop old or new. 



SOLDIER S FABLE SONG. 



The Adjutant mid the Crow. 



An adjutant there strayed 

Upon a wet parade, 
When the rain had made the turf a swampy lake : 

A dainty bone he found 

By chance upon the ground, 
But a greedy crow would first the booty take. 

2. 

" O Prince of Birds ! " he cried, 

" That food I first espied, 
So deprive not thus your servant of his own ! " 

Then swooping took the prey, 

But ne'er he flew away, 
For the giant seized and swallowed crow and bone ! 



32 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

3. 

Comes warning on the wind 

To Pandies snatching Ind, 
Which the Company has regarded as its own : 

" Be heedful lest there flies 

A stork amid the skies, 
That may promptly swallow down both bird and bone ! 

XXII. 

King Chance, who loves to sport with great and small, 

Capricious tricks with life and goods can play ; 

By slightest wave his magic wand can call 

Th' unknown to fame, the strongest to decay : 

While few his actions mark ; 

'T was doubtless " Kismet " ruled that Budroodeen, 

Elahi Bukhs, two troopers, on that e'en 

Before the fray, should give the Rajah proof 

Of rebels' conduct, hold from work aloof. 

Spurn discipline when dark. 

XXIII. 

The palace court-yard wall, on thieving bent. 
They scaled, and ransacked every store unchained : 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 33 

(The watchmen slept, with " Kismet's " will content) 
Three bottles of champagne the plunderers gained, 
No richer prey they found ; 
Then they returned where near the city tank, 
Housed in an empty shed, they smoked and drank ; 
Until they viewed dawn's faintest, earliest signs, 
The lighter sky with violet flowers and lines. 
And heard reveille sound. 



XXIV. 

The pickets change, loud rings Muezzin's chime 

That calls them forth to join their issuing friends. 

For sleep or for carouse no longer time, 

And now their squadron gaily outward wends : 

Mars bids, Silenus spurns ; 

Drowsy, oppressed, unnerved, they quit their booth. 

With fragrant hookahs would their fancy soothe. 

Spread their small carpets on the guard-room floor. 

Seated, the fuming, bubbling bowl they draw. 

Enjoy the pipe by turns. 

XXV. 

The smiling Budroodeen said : " Brother, see 
A Moslem good, our Rajah, yet his fare 



34 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

Is the bright liquor of the Feringhee, 

Their sparkling ' simpkin ' sweetest, frothiest snare : 

We save him from a sin ! " 

Elahi Bukhs replied : "But ne'er forbade 

The Prophet use of wine as yet unmade ; 

Nor was champagne invented in his time, 

So we are free to sip the nectar prime. 

The bottles from the bin ! " 

XXVI. 

" Insh' Allah ! may 't be soon," they both agreed, 

" That from th' accursed Feringhee's greedy sway 

The groaning land of India shall be freed : 

The sun of Islam's power shall rule the day, 

Arise again in might ! 

For when the present desperate struggle o'er, 

Our standard waves at Delhi as of yore, 

The Moghul Empire's throne will shine anew : 

We '11 crush the idol-worshipping Hindoo 

And claim the victor's right ! " 

xxvii. 

" But who draws nigh ? A peasant. Look you, friend. 
Your business, family, and name explain. 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 35 

For upon these your fortune must depend, 
To pass, be punished, or cast out agam 
From the beleaguered town ! " 
So cries Elahi Bukhs, and Northwood calm 
Bends to the ground in humblest salaam ; 
A gesture makes as though to head and eyes 
He 'd raise the lowly dust from where it lies, 
Like a benighted clown. 

XXVIII. 

For Northwood, when he reached the city gate. 
Through open doorways of the guard-room near 
Observed the soivars, wrapped in warm debate : 
They with his daring work would interfere. 
But ne'er a word he spoke ; 
His accent would betray, full well he knew, 
So bowing would his onward way pursue, 
Hide in a house, for 't was too late to turn. 
And watch alert, so he might yet discern 
A chance to deal the stroke. 

XXIX. 

The angry troopers rose and moved in haste 

Down the stone steps which lay the guard-room round, 



36 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

Few words Elahi Bukhs would deign to waste : 

" Oh, deaf one, answer ! Why not answer, hound ? 

And raised his hand to cuff ; 

But Northwood's hunting knife uncased lay hid 

Beneath his dress, his hand upon it slid ; 

And ere th' impending blow had time to fall 

He struck the sowar s chest, whose figure tall 

Sank dead : one stroke enough ! 

XXX. 

As he who stoops to pluck some charming flower 

But sees a deadly viper swiftly rise, 

Close to his face, from where 't was wont to cower. 

And hissing, threat to strike his very eyes. 

Starts quickly up in fear ; 

So Budroodeen, amazed, " Ya Ullah ! " yelled, 

And springing back half drew the sword he held ; 

But ere the blade was from the scabbard brought 

His spurs against the lowest step he caught. 

And lost his balance sheer. 

XXXI. 

So falling heavily he struck his head 
Against the angle of an upper stone ; 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 37 

Stunned, he rolled down the stairs and lay as dead, 

Till Northwood forced his knife through flesh and bone. 

And took his worthless Hfe. 

To hide the bodies in a barn away 

Where none would chance to look beneath the hay. 

In the gate's massive hinge a nail to force. 

To join his ambushed comrades : 't was his course, 

While waiting for the strife. 

XXXII. 

Long ere bright Phoebus in his glory boasts 
That he did charm the murky night to morn, 
The loud command, the tramp of marching hosts, 
Tell that the British wait the coming dawn. 
Preparing for the fray ; 

While yet unraised the veil of twilight gloom 
Sounds on the silent air a sigh of Doom : 
The Sepoy force perceive a distant flash, 
Rushes a shell, it strikes with sudden crash. 
The wreathed smoke drifts away. 

XXXIII. 

All wake, and some might cry " Sleep, life, farewell ! " 
Their souls, forth from the tenements of mortal clay, 



38 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

Calls that grim summons like a funeral knell, 

To the long night which knows no breaking day : 

They gaze their last on earth ; 

Yet none despond, each longs the prize to draw, 

Not numbered with the slain, to win the war : 

The nascent fiends will revel in the fight, 

Glut their fierce natures roused to passion's height. 

The battle gives them birth. 

XXXIV. 

'Mid each opposing mass the shot and shell. 
Flying in ruthless showers, spread havoc wild : 
Many a maid and wife, through what befell. 
In smiling, gardened lands, with orphan child. 
Will mourn the buried past ; 
And now the sunlight's earliest beams reveal, 
Flashing on buckles, arms of brass and steel. 
Dim, distant lines of troops upon the plain. 
Shedding forth skirmishers like scattered rain 
Which the dark storm-clouds cast. 

XXXV. 

Far to the flank and rear new legions spread. 
Ranged in their ordered ranks, one chief's desire 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 39 

Controlled ; and on the firing marksmen sped, 

Raced to each crest, from bank to bank came nigher, 

And halted near the town ; 

O'er a stout fence of earth their rifles true 

From many a Sepoy gaunt the life-blood drew ; 

Through the wide field there stalked the Scytheman grim, 

Reaped the perennial harvest due to him, 

His sheaves bestrewed the ground. 

XXXVI. 

But scarce arrived the British foremost ranks, 

When issued from the Sepoy's furthest left. 

Where screened from view till now by sheltering banks, 

Five thousand Moslem horse, who fiercely cleft 

The air with brandished sword ; 

Towards the British open flank they race. 

But fire from the supports arrests their pace ; 

And their two leading lines are merged in one. 

Ere their well-planned attack has scarce begun 

Nor gained the wished reward. 

XXXVII. 

A swiftly-rolling cloud, portentous sight ! 

Of thick grey dust near hid the charge from view, 



40 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

Save here and there the dint of sabre bright : 
Till brought to bay it stood revealed anew 
As impotent it raged ; 

The groaning land roared 'neath the serried rush, 
With a loud rumbling as when earthquakes crush 
The rocky framework of our old abode, 
Which reeled and trembled to the moving load 
Till peace its pain assuaged. 

XXXVIII. 

Brief is the space before a smaller force 
Accepts their gage and hurries to the fray : 
For swift as feathered arrow on its course, 
The British cavalry in grim array 
For triple charge combine ; 
The Sepoys wheeling rush to join the war, 
The foremost troops encounter with a roar. 
Heavier, the Sepoy mass the vantage keeps. 
Still shudders from the shock, as 'gainst it sweeps 
The British second line. 

XXXIX. 

On the huge seething field what weight could tell ? 
There single combat reigns 'twixt friend and foe : 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 4 1 

The falling charger, rider cast from selle, 

With rapid wheel and turn, swift point and blow. 

The scene that meets the eyes ; 

Nor more the Sepoy's last reserves can move, 

Though bold they charge and well their prowess prove : 

While ever sways and strives the scattering crowd 

With shouts, wild shocks of horses trampling loud, 

And Pandemonium cries. 



XL. 



A cavalier was every sowar born. 

With wiry length of limb the sword to wield. 

Great power to grip his horse, nor from it torn 

In the fierce fray when reaching far to deal 

With force a trenchant blow ; 

From childhood's hour like mythic Centaurs ride. 

And light though tall their trusty steeds bestride : 

Often that day they proved them taught too well. 

By the apt scholar's stroke the teacher fell, 

Nor laid his pupil low. 



XLI. 



The Sepoys followed battle-tactics still, 

As learnt in British martial schools, the plan : 



42 A BREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

Advanced in triple fighting lines until 
The rifle fire had merged two in the van, 
And one reserve remained ; 

Well served their double foremost strength at first, 
As on the leading hostile horse they burst ; 
But all their eager force had joined the war. 
While the third British line, in ready store, 
Still from the strife refrained. 

XLII. 

Oft had its leader by the cover side, 
In the half light of English winter day, 
Viewed the emerging fox, nor would he ride 
Until he saw the quarry safe away. 
Then raised the '' Tally-ho ! " 
And midst the wild excitement of the run 
His quick decision, dash, and skill had won, 
Well had the sport and game his training served. 
Matured his judgment and his action nerved 
For conflict with a foe. 

XLIII. 

There sat the chief upon his eager steed, 
Before his ranks, and coolly watched the strife ; 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS, 43 

To seize the lucky chance his line to lead 
And win the combat, greater prize than life ; 
He charged the thinning crowd 
When he perceived that he could rule its weight, 
And with an onset strong and stern as fate, 
Like crested wave he rode on victory's flood : 
Each British sword was bathed in Sepoy blood 
And won its laurels proud ! 

XLIV. 

Meanwhile the British pause, the last assault 
Awaits their left attack, that threads a wood ; 
Onward it surges, doomed again to halt, 
At length it wins a vantage high and good 
To enfilade the rank ; 

Fast fall the dead, the wounded shriek and groan. 
Those who survive, in dire confusion thrown. 
Begin to quit the trench by tens, then scores. 
Scarce checked by their reserve which forward pours 
To strengthen front and flank. 

XLV. 

But not for long the fresher troops rest firm. 
Caught 'twixt two foes they soon begin to quail, 



44 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

And thus of coming fate there grows the germ : 

Disorder reigns, but one cure can avail, 

The flank attack must cease ; 

Then strives the Sepoy right more fiercely still 

To seize the key of fate, the wooded hill, 

From whence its captors, on the vantage ground. 

Harass the native ranks beneath the mound : 

Its galling fires decrease. 

XLVI. 

Ere in the trench the wavering troops revive 
The British line has crossed with eager bound 
The earthen bank : all vying, racing, strive. 
With gleaming bayonets rush, their cheers resound, 
They charge home on the foe ; 
Some Sepoys fly, some, bolder, wait the shock. 
Through courage, bhang, or faith all danger mock ; 
They close in deadly strife, the scream, the yell. 
The blow, the fall, the musket-shot, can tell 
That furies fight below ! 

XLVII. 

'T was passing strange in the exciting scene 
To note the uniforms of striving foes, 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 45 

Which erst the signs of brotherhood had been ; 
But now lent fury, added force to blows, 
Reminding of the past ; 
The British would avenge the broken vow. 
The conquered Sepoy struck for freedom now : 
They strove who won together bays before, 
Grant Heaven such ill-starred internecine war, 
The first may be the last ! 

XLVIII. 

The struggle quickly o'er, then who would spare 

Base men with hands stained red in children's blood ? 

Who heeded not the helpless women's prayer. 

But cast them outraged into Ganges' flood 

With tender babes to die ? 

Those who escaped crowd every path and lane, 

Or from the loopholed walls still fire amain : 

The victors quickly gathering pursue. 

To gain the cottages they charge anew, 

" Now clear the huts ! " they cry. 

XLIX. 

To pass between the blocks, their chief commands. 
Through open doors behind their way they maul, 



46 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

Those which are firmly barred they fire with brands, 
Or with the ram burst through the plaster wall : 
At last the day is won : 
The Sepoy right the rout in front descry, 
They almost gained the hill, but now they fly, 
Forced back into the town, to reach the gate 
Press onward, dreading lest it be too late ; 
But all in vain they run. 



L. 



As mountain torrents which forsake the crest. 

And rushing, blustering, join their rugged course. 

The streams converged, towards the guard-room pressed. 

Seized in the morning by the British force 

That close the gates have barred ; 

And fire from loopholes on the stricken crowd. 

Who, frantic turn to fly and raise aloud 

A thousand yells of fury and despair. 

Like starving jackals' howls that fill the air. 

The wails of the ill-starred ! 



LI. 



The British still pursue, then whither fly ? 

In gardens, woods, and barns the Sepoys cower : 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 47 

Hindoos fire houses, leap within and die, 

Cremated save their caste in that dark hour, 

Nor fall into our hands ! 

The soldiers search each nook and skulkers slay, 

Tranquillity restore, the fires allay : 

The peaceful citizens they reassure. 

Protect the lives and goods of rich and poor. 

All but the armed bands. 



LII. 



When morning dawns, the Rajah mounts in state 

From his broad palace-roof to view the fight ; 

To see the mad Feringhees meet their fate, 

And the sure triumph of himself and right. 

His courtiers all attend. 

Dressed in pure white of fine and graceful fold. 

Laced dainty 'kerchiefs shake, sheathed tulwars hold 

Show deference, display a well-bred ease, 

And seek his Highness' smallest wish to please. 

With bow, salaam, and bend. 



LIII. 



The Sepoy leader comes, he would report 

His hopeful plans by which to crush their foes ; 



48 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

Then hurries back his warriors to exhort 

To firmly stand and ward the desperate blows 

Directed at their lines ; 

But when the Rajah sees his troops in rout, 

Hears of the captured gates from flying scout, 

He with his courtiers from the roof descends, 

Through mazy streets across the town he wends 

'T is fate he ne'er repines ! 



LIV. 



Where 'gainst the city barrier buildings stood. 

Swiftly they came and chose the strongest, best : 

Mounting upon a narrow scale of wood 

They reached the roof and next the rampart's crest. 

From thence to slide down ropes ; 

A flying crowd had followed in their wake, 

Who hoped to secret doors their path would take : 

Not often do commanders of a town 

Avoiding ports, the parapets climb down. 

In lowest walls their hopes ! 



LV. 



The courtiers bowed to " Kismet," calm, aghast, 
At the wild flight and terrible defeat : 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 49 

Remained devoted, deferent to the last 

(Their Rajah's dignity no slight should meet) 

Nor lost their ancient pride ; 

Though ropes they had plain, stout, of English make, 

Would bear three men at once and yet not break. 

Chose for their chief a cord of state instead, 

Of native work, with strands of green and red. 

It broke, he fell and died ! 



CANTO III. 

THE VISION. 

I. 

T^HE mortal conflict o'er, winged Victory crowns 
* Our troops who struggled round an open grave 
With gallant might, averted fortune's frowns 
And won the smiles that wait upon the brave ; 
The Herculean task 
In the gigantic warfare to perform. 
To rescue India from cyclonic storm : 
'T is men like these can dare and do the deed. 
With pride of race, to earn bright glory's meed. 
In fame's warm glow to bask ! 



50 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

II. 

Though Northwood all acclaim, with honour greet, 

No longer buoyed by fierce delight and hope 

To lay fresh laurels at his lady's feet : 

For solitude he seeks the shady tope 

Before the city gate ; 

" Could I but know that we will meet once more 

When past the toil and fierce turmoil of war, 

That she, still free to entertain my suit. 

Will bless, at last bestow the wished-for fruit, 

What tranquil joy my fate ! " 



III. 



Thus pondered as he reached the sacred grove 

Wherein an ancient fane to Brahma stood ; 

Whose image, pious tenets yet behove, 

Was smeared with ochre, served with flowers and food. 

By Hindoo votaries spread ; 

They prayed for power and gold, through ages vowed 

Before that stone with heads devoutly bowed : 

Were suppliants happier and more blest mankind. 

When all was granted, or the boons declined. 

For which the priests were fed ? 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 5 1 

IV. 

The temple's origin, by legend told, 

Whispering from distant ages dim and grey : 

The votive promise of a warrior bold 

If through the deity he should win the day, 

And conquer in the field ; 

' T was said when first the Hindoos issued forth 

From Brahma's land that lay far to the North, 

The cradle of their race, by sacred knowledge blest, 

The holy Brahma — Varta, purest, best : 

A city stood revealed. 



Then gazing on its strength their leader vowed, 
If the fair land should by the god be given. 
To raise a temple, with its priests endowed, 
(Upon the scene where rival hosts had striven). 
In honour of his name ; 

And where the burning sun so fiercely shined, 
Creatures and herbs alike from suffering pined, 
A shady grove should spread its ample arms 
To bless all living things with verdant charms : 
And soon the answer came. 



52 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS, 

VI. 

They 're Brahma's words upon the wind that sound 

" Thy pious prayer is granted, O my Son ! 

Until the day that I from heaven look down 

And see thy people can my temple shun 

Or serve at other shrine ; 

For if thy children do this grievous wrong 

A nation will avenge me, valiant, strong ; 

Worship and know me by another name, 

With varied sacred rites adore the same, 

The only power divine ! " 



VII. 



He ceased : the leader inspiration drew, 

Faith, courage, glory, roused his ardent ranks : 

The horsemen charged like shafts from bows of yew, 

The foot scaled walls and breach and won the banks. 

Brave victors of the hour ; 

They seize the city, change its name of yore, 

In honour of the god to Brahmapore : 

Conquer rich provinces, wide rule and wealth, 

By open force and diplomatic stealth 

Build up a mighty power. 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS, 53 

VIII. 

But when long ages passed of rich increase 
The people turned from Brahma's stricter law, 
Forgot his warning should they ever cease 
To serve him only and none else adore : 
No monotheists they : 

Then swept a wave of conquest o'er the land, 
The Hindoo kingdoms sank like crumbling sand. 
Engulfed by Moslem hosts of fierce intent, 
To spread their faith, to kill, to conquer bent : 
'T was Brahma's destined day ! 



IX. 



But what portends the uproar that draws nigh ? 

A sound of cymbals, drums, and music-shells : 

As anthem-chanting crowds move slowly by, 

And add to braying trumpets shouts and yells ; 

The morrow of defeat 

*T were strange to wed ? Once more in life they bear 

For bridal clad, the wife, with flower-decked hair : 

The marriage-bed to funeral pyre they change, 

On which the living with the dead to range. 

Her dreadful doom to meet ! 



54 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS, 



Across the plain the long procession wound, 

The Suttee in an open litter borne : 

Her triumph marked by every sight and sound, 

The flowery ornament and strident horn ; 

With many a lengthy stay, 

For the crowd worship, benediction seek, 

Excited women pray and wildly shriek : 

Bareheaded Brahmins sing the hymns of death. 

Shouting " Jey Kalee ! " with their loudest breath, 

" Great Kalee gains the day ! " 



XI. 



Much smeared with ochre red, stands 'midst a throng 
A log-built platform black from grease and oil, 
Libations poured with prayer and votive song : 
Beneath a canopy round which there coil 
Fair flowers in garlands twined ; 
Thence flutter pennons, crimson, orange, blue. 
While carpets form the couch of many a hue. 
With incense, camphor, spread : and on it laid 
The husband's efligy, full roughly made. 
The nuptial tie to bind. 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 55 



XII. 



For though the rite prescribes the man deceased 

Should burn together with the victim wife, 

The husband's body neither friend nor priest 

Could e'er discover since the recent strife, 

In which 't is sure he fell : 

Seen 'midst the greedy flames that grasped his home, 

Reckless he strove to guard like jealous gnome 

The fruit of ceaseless toil, his talents rich, 

Hid in the chest or e'en the crumbling niche : 

How doomed : Who more could tell ? 



XIII. 



Amidst the smouldering ruins on the ground. 

Where the fierce fires on thatch and wood had fed ; 

There lay full many a coin in heaps around ; 

With keys that lately bore the fated dead. 

Then in a funeral urn 

His relatives had gathered ashes ta'en 

Where the devouring flames had burnt the slain ; 

Placed on the funeral pyre there stood the vase 

With efifigy and garland, votive jars 

Of sweet perfumes and myrrh. 



56 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

XIV. 

Beyond the further outskirts of the grove 

Young Northwood saw where now the train progressed 

Impelled by quick resolve, to thwart it strove, 

Swift to the fatal spot he forward pressed, 

Th' intended fiery grave ; 

And since their lot the battle did decide, 

No more the natives bore their arms in pride : 

So kindly fate its powerful aid had brought 

To him who now in desperate venture sought 

A lovely girl to save. 



XV. 



Upon his pistol's butt his hand he closed, 
Called on the column to halt, the priests to hear. 
The dreadful rite to say had none opposed : 
They answered, " With our faith who interfere ? 
'T is the Sirkar's command ! " 

"By war," quoth Northwood, "rules our iron chief, 
* No native gatherings,' 't is his order brief : 
This lady (cause of all) I prisoner make. 
Disperse your line or else its ranks I break 
With any force at hand ! " 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS, 57 

XVI. 

The haughty Brahmins scowled, the muttering throng 

Gathered in angry groups with brandished staves, 

But soon dissolved, nor dared to threaten long : 

So melt the mounds of sand before the waves 

Upon the ocean shore : 

For on the level plain towards the sky 

An eager British picket they espy : 

Urged by its leader's voice, exhorting loud, 

To hurry forward, reach the native crowd 

That parts and is no more. 



XVII. 

Then Northwood led the rescued lady on 

Through the calm shelter of the shady wood. 

To learn how caused her danger past and gone, 

The best provision for her future good. 

Yet scarce alive was she ; 

Not one of those who gladly meet their fate 

To save a loved soul from torture great. 

Or join it in the regions of the blest : 

But stunned and terrified, abashed, distressed, 

She sank upon her knee. 



58 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

XVIII. 

Her stature less than middle height, nor yet 

Had ceased its growth, her form of perfect mould 

Such delicate round outline to forget 

Impossible, the eye must ere behold, 

Obey fond memory's call ; 

As fair her rosy cheek as in our South, 

Red ripe her lip, and small her dainty mouth, 

Straight and fine-chiselled was her feature's tone, 

Dark gentle eyes to soften hearts of stone 

And captive man enthrall. 



XIX. 



Her dress of fine white muslin shawls loose wound 

The form displayed, or hid with graceful fold. 

Here served as partial hood, there touched the ground, 

Its edges trimmed with dainty lace of gold ; 

Rare gems of largest size 

Sparkled in necklace, bangle, belt, a store 

To grace the festal day in many a score ; 

Not to be wasted by the scorching flame, 

But gathered ere the time for burning came, 

The precious glittering prize. 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 59 

XX. 

He raised her gently, courage she regained, 
As reassured, she saw no cause for fear ; 
Then modestly her history she explained, 
Which to a frightful death had brought her near, 
When he had saved her life : 
" A Hindoo banker here my husband dwelt. 
His influence wide throughout the state was felt ; 
He gave his gold to aid his country's cause, 
To free broad India from the stranger's laws, 
And fell in yester's strife. 



XXI. 



" 'T was 'midst the fiercest summer heats last year, 

As emissary to the great Hindoos, 

He travelled by the Indus to Cashmere, 

To move the powers their future lot to choose 

With promise of support ; 

But Serinagur's chief desired to play 

Both fast and loose, and so to while his way. 

The flattered envoy 't was proposed to wed 

To me, of royal blood : and home instead 

Of league a wife he brought ! 



6o A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

XXII. 

" But how to fair Cashmere can I return 

Since I through Providence escaped the flame ? 

Both there and here my friends would bid me burn, 

To rescue honour from a widow's shame : 

I trust alone in you ! " 

So saying turned on him her large dark eyes, 

Like a masked battery opening by surprise : 

Their influence is great in East or West 

When ladies wish their willing slaves to test ; 

Would he fall captive too ? 



XXIII. 

He pressed her hand, encircled with his arm. 

And to his lips the ready words arose : 

He fell not yet beneath wild passion's charm, 

Nor spake what he intended to propose, 

A warning viewed in time ; 

Down a long vista through the wood before 

There sat his lover near her castle door ; 

Telling of faith and hope in absence long, 

Inspiring with her strength to make him strong, 

Under the spreading lime ! 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 6 1 

XXIV. 

Abashed before the sudden mystic sight 

Which high and pure had checked his near descent : 

Astonished glanced around to left, to right, 

Not Indian soil ! on Fairy-land intent 

Of which such scene was born ! 

Yet there the Hindoo temple's walls and dome 

His chance adventure to the mind brought home : 

*T was there he heard the loud procession's sound, 

From thence called forward, to the rescue bound, 

By trumpet, chant, and horn. 



XXV. 

This is the sacred grove where Brahma spreads 

Protection o'er his rescued daughter fair : 

The flickering sunlight through the branches sheds 

New lustre on her blush and coal-black hair. 

Still decked with flower and pearl ; 

Emblems of purity and of the rite 

By priests that morn upon the victim dight : 

No more the sunbeams harmless to enjoy, 

Misguided flamens would for faith destroy 

A young and beauteous girl ! 



62 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

XXVI. 

Again he seeks the vision, sees no more 
Than block erratic from the rocky hill, 
Primeval iceberg's wreck 'midst ocean's roar : 
And the sweet neem, with flowering shrublets fill 
Alone the forest glade ! 
Whether a phantom or to form it serves 
The passing fancy of his high-strung nerves : 
Oft will he ponder, ne'er the truth may know. 
Was scene he saw amidst the summer glow 
But varying light and shade. 



XXVII. 

The vision gone, and yet there spread around 

To him a feeling as if earth were changed, 

And how dishonour now such hallowed ground, 

By thought unholy ? Thus he sought estranged 

A pretext to withdraw ; 

But yet again the warmth that prompts in Spring 

The birds to present mates their loves to sing, 

Forget the soft liaisons of lang-syne. 

Which erst could thrill the frame with power divine, 

Quickens his pulse once more. 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 63 

XXVIII. 

As sign of diffidence the lady deemed 

The sudden pause, too close upon his breast 

To mark the haggard look of one who dreamed : 

In charming bashfulness her eyes depressed : 

Her graceful supple form, 

With added softness from its light attire, 

By thrills electric might a hermit fire : 

Abandoned to his arms no more she spoke, 

As silent ivy nestles round the oak 

For aid against the storm. 



XXIX. 

But as a parasitic growth, a spray 
May rest pretentious on the giant limb 
Of mighty forest tree, nor make its way 
Beyond the tender shoot : so 't is with him 
Whose heart is sound and strong ; 
While if decay has seared the perfect mind, 
Then clinging vices with their network bind : 
They spread, at length the sap of life they draw, 
Smother with danksome leaves, exhaust the store, 
And slay the being they wrong ! 



64 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

XXX. 

Between the bonds of his allegiance true, 

The gem he prized as life, and strong desire 

For that which heated blood impelled to do : 

Now conquered those, now vanquished these retire, 

There raged a furious war ! 

As when the forces of disorder raise 

In frenzied grip the torch to spread the blaze, 

Nor palace fair nor cottage spares the brand 

Till quenched by powers of order in the land : 

At length the strife is o'er. 



XXXI. 

The Cashmere siren, who in vain allured. 

Safely to far Calcutta would be sent. 

Housed in a native home, her life secured 

By those on charitable deeds intent : 

Her harmless foes might search ; 

There would she spend her days in peaceful ease 

Where none could persecute, insult, or seize : 

Cheered by the many brilliant sights and sounds. 

E'en choose her faith where each belief surrounds 

In temple, mosque, or church. 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS, 65 

CANTO IV. 
THE RIVALS. 



T^HOSE skilled in lore of planets had foretold, 
* Since Plassy's field where Clive the land had won, 
The Indians yet would grasp their power of old : 
When full a hundred years their course had run. 
Then Britain's star would sink. 
At last the fated sun has come and gone, 
O'er mighty struggling giants it has shone : 
The Company dies, though England's rule survives, 
'Scapes, though it cost a myriad gallant lives. 
The precipice's brink ! 

II. 

Then Peace poured balm into the gaping gash ; 
Wise Power and Justice bound the bleeding wound ; 
India forgot her recent madness rash ; 
Prosperity revived where erst she swooned, 
Cheered by good Fortune's smiles ; 
While kindly Charity arrived to aid. 
And gorgeous Wealth its bounteous offerings made 
Love mourned the loss of relative or friend : 



66 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

Mars lingering scanned where hosts no more contend, 
From the far British Isles. 

III. 

Calm in the council, wise and strong, he held 

Firmly the reins of power and ruled the land : 

Lord Corbury, Viceroy, who in times dispelled 

The gloomy ruin that crushed fair Hindostan ; 

While handed down to fame, 

Posterity has known him sage and skilled. 

On soundest basis the new rule to build, 

To native races sympathetic, kind : 

Who honouring his generous, noble mind. 

Heap blessings on his name ! 

IV. 

By chance there travelled through that sunny realm 

A Russian youth of wealth and noble birth. 

To count his acres would the sense o'erwhelm. 

Rich ores were yielded by the generous earth : 

Prince Gurieff was he ; 

Who soon to Lady Ella made his suit 

With manner charming, gay, and mind astute : 

She hinted her affections were engaged, 

He heard with outward calm and secret rage, 

Who could her lover be ? 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 6/ 

V. 

Well used to gain the day amongst the fair, 
E'en with a light attack to win the fort : 
Then how could lady leave him in despair, 
To whom in serious guise he paid his court ? 
A terrible rebuff 

To a young handsome dandy, who, though pale. 
In frame and constitution sound and hale : 
Nor his the conduct of a carpet knight, 
A hero in the Alma's deadly fight 
He gave each foe enough ! 



VI. 



A Viceroy's aide-de-camp become his friend 
And comrade on a pleasant shooting tour, 
He sought as Mentor, and induced to lend 
His shrewd advice in confidence secure, 
Though light the counsel weighed ; 
And yet 't was not in vain the answering word, 
For thus Prince Gurieff a rumour heard 
Of neighbourly regard in England, past : 
And youth's impressions sometimes longer last 
Than those of age more staid. 



68 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

VII. 

Perchance 't was Northwood, so a tale he spread 
To mar his rival's hopes, that he had seized 
A girl of Cashmere's royal blood, nor wed ; 
Content if what he 'd ta'en to please, had pleased ; 
But Cashmere's Envoy heard, 
Sought from the Government the truth to gain, 
Which summoned Northwood, who in high disdain 
To Simla came : his menaced fame he cleared. 
Showed that the lady fled, — 't was death she feared, 
Disproved the charge absurd. 



VIII. 



So when the cruel, dark aspersions all 

Were scattered to the winds and nought remained, 

To the Vice-regal brilliant banquet-hall 

A chosen guest he wends, of favour gained 

An honorary sign ; 

And after to the great reception where 

The chivalry of India met the fair ; 

And native potentates might e'en be found. 

Withheld by pious customs which surround 

Should they be bidden to dine. 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 69 

IX. 

At the gay lengthy table banquet hold, 
The guests in brightest gala garb arrayed 
(Their uniforms blue, scarlet, lace of gold) ; 
With ladies placed alternate who display 
Each charm to grace the board ; 
Of face and form and elegant attire, 
With pearl and ruby, sparkling diamond's fire : 
A turbaned Kitmaghar behind each guest, 
Attentive, quiet, quick, arms crossed on breast, 
To wait upon his lord. 



Superb with flowers the table ; costly plate 

In gold with silver work of chaste design. 

Whose worth and beauty well became the State ; 

And shone resplendent on the middle line 

In group and centre-piece ; 

Of these the grandest lofty silver palms 

'Neath which Britannia greets with outstretched arms 

(On golden field the goddesses are born), 

Here, smiling Ceres holding stalks of corn. 

There, olive-bearing Peace. 



70 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

XI. 

In rows of silver candle-sticks there glow 

The waxen lights well screened with scarlet hoods, 

Tinting couleur-de-rose the belles and beaux, 

And self-adjusting, ne'er the flame protrudes ; 

Bright chandeliers abound ; 

While from the broad verandah's shade there thrills 

In varying cadence o'er the woods and hills. 

Concerted music, solo song and glee : 

Daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne 

Inspired no lovelier sound. 



XII. 



Abundant luxury is in the cheer : 

The Indian salmon from the stream and pool. 

Beef, ghram-fed mutton, flesh of many a deer. 

From torrid plain, copse, brake, and mountain cool ; 

Hares, dainty fattened quails. 

Snipe, sand-grouse, partridges, and birds beside, 

Wild and domestic, choicest food provide ; 

While finest, richest wines the flagons hold. 

And distant Wenham chills with store of cold 

The cup that never fails. 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. J I 

XIII. 

At the broad gorgeous table's upper end 

Presides the honoured Viceroy dressed in blue, 

While highest, brightest orders lustre lend. 

Fair marks of merit which his vest bestrew ; 

His prime of years not o'er. 

Well-suited he to rule an empire wide 

Whose bark has stemmed but now rebellion's tide ; 

And fierce the restless race, within, without, 

For ever threatening with demoniac shout 

To kindle flames of war ! 



XIV. 



A well-proportioned form and handsome face 
With genial smile which was right good to see ; 
His manner formed with every pleasing grace, 
Quite unsurpassed in ease and dignity ; 
Large, honest, kindly eyes 

Beamed 'neath a forehead broad, inviting trust ; 
And yet strong mouth, chin, nose, and powerful bust 
Conveyed a clear but silent warning fair. 
Of ready forces which lay harboured there 
Should any need arise. 



y2 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS, 

XV. 

The banquet o'er except the well-filled bowl, 
The gracious ladies not as yet withdrawn, 
Stay to enhance in value manifold 
A compliment which else of lustre shorn ; 
Two chieftains of the land. 
Conducted by a red-clad aide-de-camp. 
Entering the hall, approach the brilliant throng 
All save the dames arise to honour more. 
The Viceroy greets the Princes near the door 
And grasps each Rajah's hand. 



XVI. 



The elder ruler's face scarce showed two score 

(One half in strong-willed personal power were spent) 

Combined with life voluptuous signalled o'er 

Eye, cheek, chin, lips, and form, though never bent, 

Full debonair to see ; 

He knew it well to judge from trim moustache. 

Coal-black with well-curled ends : nor manner harsh 

Or fierce displayed, and yet to reach the throne 

His crime of parricide stood not alone ! 

Once there, a Solon he. 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 73 

XVII. 

Repays full many a weary mile of road 

To view that Prince of Eastern majesty, 

Wearing a double crown : the precious load, 

Bright with each gem e'er born of land and sea. 

To charm the dazzled gaze ; 

Down to his shoulders fall his raven curls 

Where twine broad shining threads of snowy pearls 

Dressed in loose graceful garb of spotless white ; 

Gay orders, richest gold embroidery bright. 

His scarlet cloak displays. 



XVIII. 

His comrade, still a prepossessing boy. 

O'er whom scarce sixteen summer suns have danced. 

Too brief his handsome features to destroy 

Or mar their cast, nor yet his eagle glance 

Voluptuous ease can tame ; 

His predecessor on the throne had thought 

To join the rebels, foible dearly bought : 

Revolt with British aid exiled the Prince, 

And skilful ministers had governed since 

In the young Rajah's name. 



74 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

XIX. 

Both chiefs in jealous emulation vied 

To dazzle most with beauteous gems and gold : 

And well their revenues the need supplied, 

On such a fair occasion to uphold 

The honour of their realms ; 

'T is thus they sigh for dignified repute, 

And covet added guns to their salute ! 

A ruby necklace equals one as rare, 

Of pearls worth twenty thousand pounds, the pair 

So bright the eye o'erwhelms. 



XX. 



Winning the competition, bore the palm 

With dazzling brilliancy, a diamond brooch : 

In the boy's turban the rich jewels charm. 

E'en on the splendour of the Shah encroach 

With vaunting rivalry ; 

The glittering combs a lofty feather bear, 

Joining in front the folded turban fair. 

Whose ends hang back upon the pure white dress 

While the bare feet upon the carpet press. 

An Eastern courtesy. 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 75 

XXI. 

Returning with them to the table near, 
The Viceroy spoke in flowing eulogy : 
" My honour 't is to-day to welcome here 
Brethren in arms, who through the mutiny 
Fought with us side by side ; 
Long may alliance last so fair and true, 
Most gratefully their aid we bear in view : 
Well may each Rajah trust on us in need, 
That we in turn for his good cause will bleed. 
Whatever may betide ! " 



XXII. 

Then duly celebrates the cup the toast 

With added honour from three lusty cheers : 

All guests reseated, standing yet their host. 

With courteous bearing either Rajah hears 

The complimentary word ; 

And at the end salaams, but still conceals. 

With changeless face and mien, whate'er he feels 

Within his secret mind and inmost heart : 

Briefly replies the senior on their part, 

In low-voiced tone scarce heard. 



76 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

XXIII. 

'T was thus he spoke : " Our humble aid was given 

To freedom, progress, which from order grow ; 

For these the British fought, and ever riven 

The land of India, if our recent foe 

Had triumphed in the war ; 

We wish the mighty Government and Queen 

A future glorious as the past has been ; 

Our thanks the gracious lord will not decline, 

And to his guests who toast our health in wine, 

Of compliments a score." 



XXIV. 

Thus with /clat the bounteous banquet closed, 
To the reception room the dames retire ; 
And soon the joyous company thither flows 
To interchange soft speech and list the lyre ; 
Broad corridors they thread 
Where skins of tiger, leopard, bear, adorn, 
While on the wall hang many a head and horn ; 
Denote adventures of a hardy race, 
Victorious in war, that love the chase, 
Spoils of the vanquished dead. 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. TJ 

XXV. 

Through the high folding doors the glittering throng 

Enters the wide reception rooms so gay ; 

Opening by windows on verandahs long, 

While opposite the sparkling wood-fires play, 

A luxury of the hills ; 

The gentle dames already seated round, 

Soon at the further end the chants resound : 

A gallant sung the first with manly voice, 

A lady wove accompaniment so choice. 

With melody that thrills. 

THE hunter's song. 

I. 

I freely tread where fancy leads, 

No trespass bars the road ; 
Of little cost my simple needs. 
The forest my abode. 

Chorus : A hunter's lot 'midst woodland scenes, 
A roving life for me ! 



2. 



Toil gives me health, wild sports invite 
To breathe the balmy air : 



78 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

The antler stag, the salmon bright, 
Who seek for better fare ? 
Chorus : A hunter's lot, etc. 

3. 

So far from busy hall and street 

I pass the joyous day ; 
With rifle, spear, rod, courser fleet, 

And hound to join the bay. 
Chorus : A hunter's lot, etc. 

4. 

Where sunbeams glance athwart the boughs 

And glides the murmuring stream ; 
By night the stillness nought may rouse 

To mar the peaceful dream. 
Chorus : A hunter's lot, etc. 

XXVI. 

At length they meet, and Lady Ella fair 
Now welcomes Northwood with her friendship warm ; 
So brightest shines the sun through clearest air 
By contrast with the clouds that bore the storm 
Whose dark walls roll afar : 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 79 

But Gurieff remains a suitor still, 
With sad forebodings Northwood's heart to fill, 
How with such rank and wealth could rival cope ? 
More gloomy he becomes, with waning hope, 
Which may his prospects mar. 



XXVII. 

But Venus breathed the secret in her ear, 

With gentle tact his lady understood : 

Skilled in the tuneful lay, there might appear 

A time to end his melancholy mood. 

Nor vainly sought she long ; 

Her gallant suitors stood on either side, 

In graceful service both her courtiers vied, 

A glance raised hope in her true lover's breast. 

And the gay Prince at length withdrew depressed 

She chose this humble song : 

SONG. 

The looses and the Daisies. 



I. 



The raging tempests sear 

Proud roses which they pass ; 



8o A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

While lowly daisies shelter near 
In safety 'mid the grass. 

2. 

When pluvial torrents pour, 
The roses fade and fail ; 

But rain the daisies harms no more 
Than the wild scathing gale. 



In beauteous bouquets bound 

The roses cease to bloom ; 
Untouched the daisies smile around, 

No envy deals their doom. 

XXVIII. 

In praise then murmured Northwood : " Were my lot 

To hunt or tend the sheep on prairies wild : 

The Indian's wigwam, or the shepherd's cot, 

A fairy palace were mine ear beguiled 

As thus with music's spell ! " 

Then met their eyes again in silent speech, 

A glowing language no professors teach : 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 8 1 

To speed the guests the smiling lady moves, 
As hospitality the rite behooves, 
And breathe a kind " Farewell." 

XXIX. 

O Reader, has your rapt admiring gaze 

Feasted on Karnak's many-pillared halls ? 

Herodotus has led you through the Maze ? 

Dreamed you of Assur's sculptured palaced walls ? 

The transient works of man ? 

Think of the boundless canopy of green, 

A myriad stems uphold its leafy sheen. 

Mountains, with peaks, the white "abodes of snow," 

The crystal brooks, the glittering river's flow. 

And match them if you can ! 

XXX. 

Such is the scene where Himalaya's child. 

The ice-born Ganges, cleaves Siwalix' coil : 

And freed, it quits the Boon's broad uplands wild 

To bless and fertilize the Indian soil ; 

O ever-verdant shade ! 

Home of bright birds of every gorgeous hue. 

Where shine the oriole's gold, the peacock's blue : 



82 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

The leopard, serpent, elephant, and bear, 
The graceful deer, the surly tiger, there 
Await the hunter's raid. 

XXXI. 

No eye to note sad failure's downcast look. 

Or tongue to probe the wound ill-fortune rent : 

If jealousy or fury ill could brook 

A wight on curiosity intent ; 

The Doon Prince Gurieff sought, 

When Simla's soft delights of hope and love 

No more could bind him to its heights above : 

His suit had failed, he fled, and cursed the hour ! 

His hated foe had won the lovely flower 

Of the Vice-regal court ! 

XXXII. 

At last it seemed not e'en this far retreat 

Could cruel fortune leave at his command. 

For those approached who least he wished to greet ; 

The Viceroy sought the chase, was close at hand. 

Would westward move that day ; 

So cried they at a village on his route. 

Where turning south he 'scaped like hostile scout : 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 83 

Towards the bleak Siwalix hurried, then 
To shun the Imes of elephants and men 
He held his eastward way. 

XXXIII. 

But ere he turned across the pathway wild 
Which onward to the distant Ganges wound : 
By its rough side he saw that stones were piled, 
Holding erect a staff with red flag bound 
To mark a deed of death ; 
Where harmless native traveller on his way, 
Or frugal hunter searching for his prey, 
By the fierce crafty tiger's sudden blow. 
Far from his home and human help laid low. 
Had parted with his breath. 

XXXIV. 

Perchance a band of pilgrims, to the shrine 

Of Huri toiling, viewed upon the ground 

Trace of the struggle in each well-known sign : 

Torn clothing, staff, and lotah^ scattered round, 

And tinged with sanguine stain ; 

Crushed grass and footmarks, sand displaced and scored 

Point the fell spot and mournful clue afford 



84 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

Where then the corpse to neighbouring hollows dragged 
Trembling they placed the stones with bamboo flagged, 
And hastened on amain. 



XXXV. 

AVith pious zeal, Prince Gurieff's native guide 

(And low salaam) increased with added stones 

The funeral pyramid, that high and wide 

It long might mark where lie the dead man's bones ; 

And as they wended on, 

So mused the Prince with darkly-clouded brow : 

'T were better I lay there unless that now, 

'Midst battle's roar I still may meet in strife 

A hated foe, and take my rival's life, 

Avenge the past and gone. 

XXXVI. 

At least the crowd avoided, peaceful here, 

I may unmarked indulge the bitter mood ; 

Where a white man ne'er treads for many a year, 

And the bright Halcyon well might rear her brood ; 

The deer I may surprise 

Within these many glades, as now the sun 

Has fallen half the height, his chief work done : 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 8$ 

And the cool upland airs the heat appease, 

There flows the limpid stream, here 'neath the trees 

The couch from which they rise. 

XXXVII. 

But Fate so wills it Northwood seeks on foot 

With native guide, for deer beyond the flank 

Of the wide jungles where his comrades shoot ; 

And skirts along Siwalix' northern bank ; 

Then at a sudden turn, 

After the simple forest track has wound 

A brake of canes, high reeds and grass around. 

He meets his rival with advancing pace, 

Rifle in hand and fury on his face, 

Whose black eyes flash and burn. 

XXXVIII. 

Fierce Gurieff knows, and so he well may pause, 

A duel, combat howsoever fair. 

Is interdicted by the country's laws ; 

He who survives the blame of blood must bear ; 

But if in self-defence 

It would appear, then he can strike the blow, 

Unpunished and triumphant slay his foe : 



86 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

Does fate throw such a chance within his reach ? 
Let lawyers argue and the priests may preach, 
He bears the victory thence ! 

XXXIX. 

Calling in French he howled an angry cry 

(Their men no Gallic converse understood) : 

" Consent to fight at once, O coward, or die, 

Shot where you stand for vultures', jackals' food ! " 

His rifle partly raised ; 

But Northwood answering : " To refrain were best," 

Stood ready 'gainst surprise or 'vantage pressed. 

While both attendants puzzled and appalled, 

Discerned the quarrel and the fight forestalled, 

Fled terrified, amazed. 



XL. 



Two loud reports rang forth, and at their sound 

Prince Gurieff's native saw his master fall, 

Nor paused again to look, from onward bound : 

(Perchance to stay were death ! What needs recall ?) 

And swifter still he sped ; 

While Northwood's guide, beyond the power of sight. 

Preserved his life, forgot his master's right, 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 8/ 

Sought Hurdwar's sacred banks, from whence he came, 
Though guiltless fearing to incur the blame. 
And never turned his head ! 



XLI. 



Cast down his rifle, Northwood forward hies 

To aid, and marks the pallid, ashy cheeks, 

But not the boding twinkle of the eyes. 

Nor dreams Prince Gurieff still for vengeance seeks 

Quickly on elbow raised. 

His foeman cries : '' I gladly meet my doom 

Can I but send thee, miscreant, to the tomb ! " 

Again his treacherous weapon hurls the ball, 

But failing hand and eye deny the call ; 

Aimed wide, the missile grazed ! 

XLII. 

The effort o'er, he falls, and spouting wide. 

By sudden movements forced from injured vein. 

Gushes through mouth and nose the crimson tide : 

To breathe the vital breath of heaven again 

His wounded lungs refuse ; 

Though Northwood quickly raised the fallen head, 

A corpse remained, the haughty spirit fled : 



88 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

Protecting branches o'er the body bound, 
He hurried to the Viceroy's camping ground 
To bear the mournful news. 

XLIII. 

Calcutta, India's graceful City-Queen ! 

The war might roar beyond the Ganges broad : 

But safely didst thou rest with placid mien, 

Shielded by water from the barbarous horde 

That thirsted for thy blood ; 

In peace enjoyed good laws and government. 

Although the Northlands insurrection rent : 

For never have rebellious hands possessed 

The Swan on Hoogly's beach that plumes her crest, 

Saved by the sacred flood. 

XLIV. 

For not alone to stem the Western main 

Four-armed Varuna mounts the monster steed ; 

His river-loops the robber can restrain, 

Or draw below the cords he bears, at need, 

With snaky noose to bind ; 

Well fitting that the Lord of wave and wind. 

Which bore the British troops to conquer Hind, 



A DUE AM OF OTHER DAYS. 89 

E'en though a foreign god of mythic mould, 
Should recognise his constant votaries bold 
And be to Britons kind. 



XLV. 



Changed is the scene since on the fertile plain 

Charnock fixed here the seat of British power, 

Where pilgrims worshipped at an ancient fane, 

And gave Thee birth in a propitious hour ! 

But darker 't is to dwell 

Upon Suraj-ud-Daula's fierce attack, 

A captured city and the ruthless sack : 

The vault where penned the champions who had fought 

For the defence of modern Kali-ghaut, 

The Black-hole's deadly cell. 

XLVI, 

Then in the hour of need there came the man, 

When conquering Clive regained the captured prize : 

Which soon of Indian cities led the van. 

With palaced beauty to delight the eyes 

And shelter rich and poor ; 

As a huge tree which in the root and seed 

Nor shows the sheltering leaf nor fruit to feed, 



90 A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 

And wanton foot may crush, but if 't is spared, 
Its food will bless, its grateful shade is shared. 
Where else were barren moor. 



XLVII. 

There Kali ruled the scene in ancient shrine, 

Symbol of death and devastating force : 

Now sylvan beauty, human art combine, 

Spreads the broad street, the drive, the rail, the course, 

Thronged by a busy crowd ; 

Which Eastern fancy tints with many a hue. 

White clothes (belts, turbans, orange, red, and blue) : 

Palatial buildings stand 'midst gardened charms, 

Where flower the shrubs and spread the lofty palms, 

The seat of empire proud. 

XLVIII. 

Here mighty justice held her even scale 

To weigh the charge that Northwood Gurieff slew : 

Could blame now brand him, or defence prevail ? 

Would vengeance crush or life inspire anew. 

And end his sad suspense ? 

The first inquiry o'er, pregnant with hope, 

'T was held at Dehra on the mountain's slope : 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 9 1 

His tale supported by the force of truth, 
Had in the people's eyes the gallant youth 
Cleared to his joy intense. 

XLIX. 

But now the coolie swore the Prince expired, 
Just as the native watched the deed was done, 
And that by chance his falling master fired, 
High in the air the leaden bullet spun : 
A false and fancy tale ; 
For Northwood stayed the fatal bolt until 
His foe had aimed with clear intent to kill : 
The slur of murder, slaughter, how remove, 
And lying words so lightly said disprove ? 
What witness could avail ? 

L. 

Then spake the wight : " Ere this lord's rifle flashed. 

Sounding with many an echo through the wood. 

Back from his hand some weighty thing he cast 

Against an earthen bank near which he stood. 

That caused the dust to fly." 

** 'T was there then struck Prince Gurieff' s first-fired 

ball," 
The prisoner cried : " Truth saves life, honor, all ! 



92 A DREAM OF OTHER DA YS. 

I pray for time that men may search the ground, 
Its billet there the dead man's bullet found ! " 
Wild triumph filled his eye. 



LI. 



The court adjourned, the prisoner sent in ward 

Of trusty officers to point the spot 

On which he stood, where spread an opening broad, 

The moment that he fired the fatal shot : 

With search the scene they find ; 

And next the native witness leads them where 

The little cloud of sand dispersed in air : 

There now remains a hollow in the brae 

From which they cleared the broken earth away 

And found the ball behind ! 



LII. 



Could I do justice, reader, to the theme. 

E'en faintly to pourtray the joyful heart 

Of either lover, when the judges deem 

Northwood has proved he bore a blameless part 

The day Prince Gurieff fell ; 

Or mirror married bliss the rich reward 

For warrior's gallant service with his sword. 



A DREAM OF OTHER DAYS. 93 

The guerdon of a nature, constant, true, 
Which taught the happy youth success to woo, 
I would the story tell. 



LIII. 



A beauteous landscape that no brush can paint. 
Bird's song which thrills beyond all human tone, 
Bright realms of whitest snow without a taint, 
The blue of heaven, pure Nature's work alone. 
What mortal dares to vie ? 

But if my lyre, though touched with little power. 
Could bid you while away perchance the hour. 
Then not in vain the minstrel's effort spent : 
True sped the shaft from bow but feebly bent 
And aimed with erring eye. 



THE END. 











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